Descent
by obi's girl
Summary: Archie has a hard time reconciling reality from fantasy, putting him into a downward spiral of self-destruction.


Title: Descent  
AUTHOR: obisgirl  
Rating: PG-13  
Characters: Archie, Emma  
Summary: Archie has a hard time reconciling reality from fantasy, putting him into a downward spiral of self-destruction.  
Spoilers: Based on something Raphael Sbarge said at Paley Festival that he would be getting two new patients in addition to Henry this season.  
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time characters are property of Disney and Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis. This fanfic is for pure entertainment.

The only time Archie went into Granny's diner was to buy his morning coffee before work. This time though, he needs something a little stronger than coffee. So he orders whiskey. Granny gives him a weird look but lets it go, asking Ruby to look for a bottle of whiskey in the back.

Archie slumps over the counter, trying desperately to hold onto his sanity. Belle was Belle from Beauty and the Beast, and Mr. Gold was the Beast. That part still confuses him because the beast was the beast; it did occur to him that Mr. Gold could be a metaphor for a beast but still… how many times had Henry said in therapy that fairytales were real and that everything in his book actually happened?

He needs that whiskey stat.

Finally, Ruby comes out from the kitchen, whiskey bottle and a small glass in hand. But before she hands it to him, Ruby looks at him sympathetically. "Whatever it is, I doubt whiskey is going to help," she muses.

"Right now, I think whiskey is the only thing that can help me," Archie retorts.

"If that's what you think…" she says, filling the glass.

~~

Five shots later, Henry walks into the diner, spots the good doctor at the counter and takes a seat next to him. He frowns, however, when he notices the whiskey.

"Doctor Hopper?" he asks. "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right!" Archie snaps. He wants to say what's bothering him but he can't because of that confidentially agreement. Thus, the need for more whiskey drinking.

"You don't normally drink," Henry observes. "Did something happen? Did my mom threaten you again?"

Archie doesn't say, instead downing another glass of whiskey after which Ruby pours him another one.

"This isn't you," Henry continues, "Are you sure my mom hasn't threatened you again?"

"Look Henry, I appreciate your concern but I can't talk about this – with you or anyone. I'm sorry," he says bluntly, shakingly standing up from the stool and leaves the diner.

Archie is steps away from unlocking his car when someone grabs his hand and turns him around. Its Emma of course visibly scared and concerned. She takes the keys from him with ease.

"Archie?" she cries, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I'd tell you but I can't," he says, "Please, I need to clear my head. Give me back my keys,"

"Oh Hell no!" she retorts, "You are not driving in this condition. But I do think you need to talk to someone about whatever is going on with you,"

He shrugs. "I said I can't talk about it," he slurs.

"Well, I can arrest you for attempted driving under the influence," Emma reasons, "At least behind bars, you're safe and won't harm anyone,"

Archie groans as Emma snaps handcuffs around his wrists, and he feels like crying.

~~

Archie groans again, waking up in a jail cell with a painful throbbing headache, Emma sitting feet away from him. As soon as she spots him awake, Emma opens up her desk, removes some headache medicine then goes over to the water cooler, pours some water and walks over to the cell.

"Before I give this to you," she starts, "I want you tell me why you were drinking whiskey from Granny's?"

He shrugs. "The town psychiatrist isn't allowed to have bad days?"

Emma looks sarcastically. "You're allowed those but that was more than a bad day at work," she reasons.

"I can't talk about it," he repeats.

"Well, I'm within my rights to keep you locked up since technically, you're a danger to yourself and everyone else around you," she says, "So I suggest two things: either talk about it (since talking seems to be the best therapy) or find a way to deal with your problems that doesn't involve ordering another bottle of whiskey from Granny's diner,"

"That's the problem, isn't it? I can't do either of those things, so I have to find a way to cope on my own," he retorts.

Emma shakes her head. "Unfortunately for you Archie, that is not acceptable," she says, putting the headache medicine in her pocket.

"But what about my other patients? I can't administer therapy in a jail cell?"

"You should have thought of that before you ordered the whiskey," Emma responds, sitting behind her desk, smiling. "But the only good thing about this, is that I would get to see Henry at work more often,"

"And Regina,"

Emma frowns. "Except her," she retorts.

Archie sighs, removing his glasses and leans against the jail cell wall knowing that he needs to be able to talk to someone otherwise he will continue to descend farther into depression. "Are you a woman of faith or science?" he asks.

Emma shrugs. "Before coming here, to Storybrooke – I'd say I was a woman of fact. I followed them because facts are the only concrete proof that leads you to the truth," she reasons.

"Are they really though?" Archie wonders.

Emma raises a curious eyebrow. "Don't you think so?" she counters.

"I used to think so but I'm not so sure anymore," he muses, "Not when there's evidence saying that what we see in front of us isn't the truth,"

"What is the truth then, Archie?"

"I don't know anymore. That's the problem,"

"Wow," is all Emma can offer, "Of all the people in Storybrooke to question what is reality and what is fantasy, you were the last person I expected,"

He looks at her. "And you don't?"

Emma hesitates. "If you're talking about Henry and his belief that everyone in this town is a fairytale character, I still don't believe him but I don't know, sometimes – things happen and I question, maybe I should start believing. I mean, let's face it: there is definitely something off about Storybrooke,"

"Like maybe we're all fairytale characters, cursed into his existence because the Evil Queen is so hell-bent on being happy and making all our lives miserable at the same time?"

"If you want to take what Henry says literally," Emma offers.

Archie smiles, laugh even which makes Emma smile.

"See, talking about it does help," she teases.

"That it does," he agrees, looking fondly at her. "Thank you, Emma,"

"You're welcome," she says and leans forward, "And if you ever need someone to talk to Archie, if you really can't talk to anyone else – do me a favor and don't order alcoholic drinks from Granny's. I don't want to see you lose your license because you make it a habit. A lot of people need you, Henry for one,"

"So who can I talk to if I'm not allowed to drink my sorrows away?"

Emma smiles. "You can always talk to me," she offers and Archie looks at her funny. "Hey, I may not have a degree in psychology but at least I'm sane and I am willing to listen, if you'll have me,"

Archie shakes his head. "All right, I accept," he says. "But I don't want to bother you too much. I know your job can keep you busy,"

"It can but it also helps me to be able to talk someone sane every once in a while," Emma continues, "And something tells me that you're the perfect person for that job,"

"Thank you Emma," he says.

Emma removes the jail keys from her belt. Archie doesn't know what to say as she opens up the cell, letting him out. "Normally, someone has to post bail before I can let anyone out but I think you've learned your lesson," she says.

"Yes, I have, Sheriff," he agrees.

"And you remember my offer Archie: if you ever need anyone to talk to, my office is always open,"

"I'll remember that Sheriff Swan. Thank you," he says, smiling, grateful that he finally has someone he can talk to, someone to keep him sane.

The End


End file.
